


Aeducan

by BlossomsintheMist



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Stone take it, Stone take them all, she <em>would</em> survive.  She would allow herself to think nothing else.  By the Paragons, they’d see it wasn’t so easy to kill an Aeducan, exile or no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aeducan

The sword sunk deep into the darkspawn’s chest, spraying dark blood across Reda’s face, and she wrenched it free with both hands, wiping her face with her arm before she continued.  She could still feel it drying in her hair, and for a moment her old sense of humor returned to her, half-hysterically, and she wondered what Lady Helmi would think if she saw her now, in tattered commoner’s clothing and hair soaked with darkspawn blood.  Maybe she’d set a new fashion at the next feast, look what Princess Aeducan is wearing—

The next swing of her sword took off the head of a genlock as it came tearing around the corner at her.

The worst of it was her father.  Reda had always thought he’d had more faith in her than that, faith enough to at least allow her to speak in her own defense, by the sodding stone!  The deshyrs were one thing, her brothers another—though it was clear that she’d gravely underestimated Bhelen and always had, had  _trusted_ him— But the thought that her father had just let him get away with it, that he hadn’t even tried to believe her, to let her plead her case, to give her a chance, hadn’t even come to say goodbye—

Reda had tried not to think about it, had set her jaw and faced Lord Harrowmont as stoically as she could, glaring through him with dust-dry eyes, but just hearing the gates to the Deep Roads groan shut behind her made had her hands shake, with rage or some other emotion she couldn’t name, even as her eyes blurred.  She’d blinked the tears back with fury and started off into the deep roads, tightening her hands around the sword Harrowmont had given her, but ever since then the rage had been burning inside her like the molten rock beneath Orzammar, fueled by too many other emotions to name, emotions she refused to examine.

The stone was hard and cold beneath her feet, and she couldn’t hear it sing to her over the roaring of rage in her ears, but she could feel the tunnels stretching out around her, the connection to the Deep Roads up ahead, and she knew that connection was her best chance to meet up with the Grey Warden, that Duncan—her best chance for survival.  And Stone take it, Stone take them all, she  _would_ survive.  She would allow herself to think nothing else.  By the Paragons, they’d see it wasn’t so easy to kill an Aeducan, exile or no.

More darkspawn.  Reda hurled herself at them, letting herself scream out a furious battle cry as she hacked deeply into the torso of one, tugged her sword out and stabbed deep into the skull of another, then kicked it away and beat the other one back until she could run it through.  She was shaking when she finished, not from weakness or injury but from the twisted, fuming emotions shuddering through her, her hands clenched into fists around the hilt of the sword.  Reda didn’t let herself stop, not even for a moment, just threw herself at the next darkspawn.

Should she have seen it coming?  She still couldn’t quite believe it; Bhelen, her little brother, double-crossing her and Trian both so neatly he must have been planning it for years, paying off the right people, blackmailing the ones he couldn’t bribe, and here she was, exiled to the Deep Roads so he could have a better chance at power.  She wasn’t certain if it were infuriating or vindicating that she knew in her heart she’d never have done the same to him.  They’d always told her that she’d been too soft, hadn’t they?  But what was the alternative—being a backstabbing cave tick like Bhelen or a self-important nug’s arse like Trian?  Stone take it, she’d rather be soft, and she’d show these darkspawn, at least, that even the softest Aeducan was no easy prey.

Reda cleaved through the genlock’s skull and rammed the hilt of her sword into the eye of the next one.  It staggered back and she launched herself at it, bearing it to the ground with the full weight of her body before jamming her blade into its skull and twisting until it stopped twitching.

She hoped the Stone would watch over Gorim, help him through his own exile, to find a new life, whatever else.  He had always been the best friend she could have ever asked for, and more, though she hadn’t let herself truly think of him beyond his role as her second in years.  He hadn’t deserved this, to be brought down with her in a dirty round of noble politics.  He was a great warrior, and he deserved his place within the warrior caste.  He deserved a good life with a warrior caste woman and lots of fat little warrior caste babies, and sod his bloody stupid noble loyalty that had gotten him into this right along with her.  Why couldn’t he have been like everyone else and saved his own damn skin at the first opportunity?

Reda turned a corner and barely dodged a deep stalker as it spat at her.  She hacked at it, beat at its head with the flat of blade until she got a good shot at its body, then spun, set her feet, and hacked off its head.

She stood there for a moment, catching her breath and listening to the darkness around her.  Where there was one deep stalker, there were more, and they wouldn’t hesitate to swarm a dwarf on her own in the Deep Roads.

There.  Reda hit with her hilt first, then the blade, bringing it back again for another swing.  The deep stalker spat at her, and she felt the poison burn her shoulder, but she didn’t let herself falter, instead turning the natural recoil into a spin into her next swing.  It leapt at her, and Reda caught it on her knee and kicked it back, swing her sword in a wide arc around her to keep the others coming at her back away.  She set her back against the stone, catching one that darted too close with a vicious swing as she moved.

The moments ebbed and flowed around her as she stared down the deep stalkers, her consciousness narrowing into the sword in her hands, the strain of her muscles as she lifted it to strike again and again, the tiniest movements of the creatures around her to see where they would dart next, knocking them away on her sword whenever they got too close.  Hack, swing, slash, and Reda tried to ignore the sweat dripping into her eyes, the darkspawn blood sticking to the back of her neck.

She brought the sword down to cut a deepstalker in half, let herself fall to one knee and into a roll as she gutted the last one.

Reda rolled to her feet and stood for a moment as the world filled back in around her, not bothering to shake the blood off her sword.

The tunnel that led to the Deep Roads the Grey Wardens were to take was to her left.  She took a deep breath that burned, shaking in her lungs, and ran toward it.


End file.
